"A Night Before Christmas" | Christmas Tales

It was the night before Christmas, when all through Novellea,
Not a writer was typing, not even a hack.

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The platform was equipped for the writers with care,
In hopes that their essays and stories would gain quite a share.

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The writers were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of curations danced in their heads.

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And Novellea’s Executive Team, refined and elite,
Writers and dreamers took a holiday retreat.

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When out on the Novellea, there arose a notification,
A story was published, sparking great anticipation.

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I clicked on the Novellea icon to see what was posted,
When what to my wondering suddenly boasted.

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There, a beautifully generated image from Canva AI’s,
It complemented the story, making it quite the rally.

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I checked who the author might be,
Lo and behold, it was “Corrupt Santa Claus,” so carefree!

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This Corrupt Santa Claus believes it’s therapeutic, you see,
To write of his rogue life, wild and free,
On Novellea, he shares tales so bright,
Of his worldwide travels, day and night.

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He wrote of the elves who had fled from his reign,
Of reindeer repurposed for profit and gain.
He laughed at the sleigh he abandoned with pride,
Now a jet in the sky was his joyride.

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Readers gasped at the tales, both wicked and bold,
Stories of treasures and secrets untold.
Each stanza revealed a twist darker still,
Yet the rhythm entranced, against their will.

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Novellea lit up with comments galore,
Writers awake now, craving for more.
For even in shadows, the craft finds its spark,
A rogue’s narration ignites the dark.

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So, beware the posts that arrive late at night,
For Corrupt Santa Claus's pen is a mischievous fright.
He scribbles of chaos, of greed and delight,
And Novellea hums with his words taking flight.

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And though the writers had hoped for a season of cheer,
They found themselves haunted by stories severe.
For Corrupt Santa Claus's prose, both twisted and grand,
Spread across Novellea, a dark sleight of hand.

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Yet still, the platform thrived with his lore,
Each tale more corrupt than the one before.
The writers, though wary, could not look away,
For Corrupt Santa Claus ruled the night and the day.

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He penned of the stockings now hidden from sight,
Of children who trembled at rock gifts in the night.
He mocked the traditions of carols and cheer,
Replacing them all with corruption and fear.

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And somewhere beyond, in the digital glow,
Corrupt Santa Claus kept writing, his empire to grow.
For Novellea’s halls rang with sinister rhyme,
A villainous poet who thrived every time.

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So, if you log in when the moon’s shining bright,
And a new tale appears in the dead of the night,
Remember the author who bends festive law,
Corrupt Santa Claus, the villain with pen as his claw.

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A dreadful Christmas Eve night, indeed, with dark tales to read.

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(Copyright © 2025 by Mia Z. Edwards. All rights reserved.)